SONG OF SARATOGA.

RAY, what do they do at the Springs?"

"PRAY,

The question is easy to ask;

But to answer it fully, my dear,

Were rather a serious task.

And yet, in a bantering way,

As the magpie or mocking-bird sings, I'll venture a bit of a song

To tell what they do at the Springs!

Imprimis, my darling, they drink

The waters so sparkling and clear; Though the flavor is none of the best, And the odor exceedingly queer; But the fluid is mingled, you know, With wholesome medicinal things,

So they drink, and they drink, and they drink, — And that's what they do at the Springs !

Then with appetites keen as a knife,

They hasten to breakfast or dine;

(The latter precisely at three;

The former from seven till nine.)

Ye gods! what a rustle and rush

When the eloquent dinner-bell rings! Then they eat, and they eat, and they eat, And that's what they do at the Springs!

Now they stroll in the beautiful walks,
Or loll in the shade of the trees;
Where many a whisper is heard
That never is told by the breeze;

And hands are commingled with hands,
Regardless of conjugal rings;

And they flirt, and they flirt, and they flirt,—
And that's what they do at the Springs !

The drawing-rooms now are ablaze,
And music is shrieking away;
TERPSICHORE governs the hour,
And FASHION was never so gay!
An arm round a tapering waist,

How closely and fondly it clings:

So they waltz, and they waltz, and they waltz,
And that's what they do at the Springs!

In short as it goes in the world—

They eat, and they drink, and they sleep; They talk, and they walk, and they woo;

They sigh, and they laugh, and they weep; They read, and they ride, and they dance; (With other unspeakable things ;)

They pray, and they play, and they pay, -
And that's what they do at the Springs !

TALE OF A DOG.

IN TWO PARTS.

PART FIRST.

I.

"CURSE

“URSE on all curs!” I heard a cynic c1y; A wider malediction than he thought, For what's a cynic? — Had he cast his eye

Within his dictionary, he had caught

144

This much of learning, the untutored elf, —
That he, unwittingly, had cursed himself!

II.

"Beware of dogs," the great Apostle writes; A rather brief and sharp philippic sent To the Philippians. The paragraph invites

Some little question as to its intent,

Among the best expositors; but then

I find they all agree that "dogs" meant men!

III.

Beware of men! a moralist might say,

And women too; 't were but a prudent hint, Well worth observing in a general way,

But having surely no conclusion in 't, (As saucy satirists are wont to rail,) All men are faithless, and all women frail.

IV.

And so of dogs 't were wrong to dogmatize
Without discrimination or degree;
For one may see, with half a pair of eyes;

That they have characters as well as we :
I hate the rascal who can walk the street
Caning all canines he may chance to meet.

V.

I had a dog that was not all a dog,

For in his nature there was something human; Wisely he looked as any pedagogue;

Loved funerals and weddings, like a woman; With this (still human) weakness, I confess, Of always judging people by their dress.

VI.

He hated beggars, it was very clear,

And oft was seen to drive them from the door; But that was education; - for a year,

Ere yet his puppyhood was fairly o'er, He lived with a Philanthropist, and caught His practices; the precepts he forgot!

VII.

Which was a pity; yet the dog, I grant,
Led, on the whole, a very worthy life.
To teach you industry, "Go to the ant,"
(I mean the insect, not your uncle's wife ;)
though the counsel sounds a little rude
Go to the dogs, for love and gratitude.

But

-

PART SECOND.

VIII.

"Throw physic to the dogs," the poet cries;
A downright insult to the canine race;
There's not a puppy but is far too wise
To put a pill or powder in his face.
Perhaps the poet merely meant to say,
That physic, thrown to dogs, is thrown away, -

IX.

Which (as the parson said about the dice)

Is the best throw that any man can choose; Take, if you 're ailing, medical advice,

Minus the medicine, - which, of course, refuse. Drugging, no doubt, occasioned Homœopathy, And all the dripping horrors of Hydropathy.

X.

At all events, 't is fitting to remark,

Dogs spurn at drugs; their daily bark and whine Are not at all the musty wine and bark The doctors give to patients in decline; And yet a dog who felt a fracture's smart Once thanked a kind chirurgeon for his art.

XI.

I've heard a story, and believe it true,
About a dog that chanced to break his leg;
His master set it and the member grew
Once more a sound and serviceable peg;
And how d' ye think the happy dog exprest
The grateful feelings of his glowing breast?

XII.

'T was not in words; the customary pay Of human debtors for a friendly act;

For dogs their thoughts can neither sing nor say E'en in "dog-latin,” which (a curious fact)

Is spoken only — as a classic grace

By grave Professors of the human race!

XIII.

No, 't was in deed; the very briefest tail
Declared his deep emotions at his cure;
Short, but significant; one could not fail,
From the mere wagging of his cynosure
("Surgens e puppi"), and his ears agog,
To see the fellow was a grateful dog!